Navarre grinned, lengthening his claws to daggers. “Gladly.”
They rushed him as one, right and left. Navarre spun from the slash of their nails and teeth. He couldn’t allow them to bite and inject their venom. Running along the alley, one vamp breathing down his neck, he ran at one of the walls and jumped, hitting high and bounding off it. Chunks of brick shattered under the grip of his hands and the strike of his feet, scattering like pebbles. He slammed into the thick middle of the blond vampire just as he launched at Navarre.
Navarre straightened his arms like swords, tearing into the vamp’s soft belly. Hot blood gushed over his arms, showering the pavement in a widening slick. The blond screamed and hit the pavement with a meaty thud, slipping in his meal as he struggled to hold his belly together.
Navarre shook the tainted blood from his hands, landing on his feet, staggering as his boot heels struck scattered brick, rolling beneath him.
The lead vamp grabbed him from behind as he recovered his balance.
Navarre twisted in the vamp’s grip, baring his neck as he punched his right hand back across his chest, driving into the vamp’s side, reaching for the heart. The grip tightened. He heard the pop of his shoulder as it slipped out of the socket. Navarre continued driving his claws into the dark haired vamp, faster and faster, but his hold didn’t loosen. He growled in wolfen fury, barely noticing the pain as the fangs sank in and savaged his throat and shoulder, shredding his skin.
The vampire’s poison flooded his veins, paralyzing him. His arms dropped as the paralytic drug consumed him. The blood pulled from his body, sucked away like the remains of a thick shake. Sluggishly, his wolfen powers worked to heal him, but he could do nothing so long as the vampire fed off him.
Navarre sank to his knees, barely feeling the pavement dig into his flesh through the thin leather pants.
Heat singed his hair with a whining zip--a bullet buzzed by his head, slamming into the vamp holding him in thrall. He was released abruptly, and then he heard the scream of a woman echoing through the alley.
Some thing was eating Navarre. Kaeli looked at it in horror, the blood frozen in her veins, her stomach convulsing in an agonizing clench to empty its contents. Even at this distance, she could see wildness in its--the man’s eyes. Thick red coated his blinding white skin, long ivory nails dug into Navarre’s bronze flesh. His mouth latched on to Navarre’s neck, shaking him like a dog with a chunk of meat.
Kaeli choked back the sickness threatening to overwhelm her and pulled her gun out of her purse without conscious volition. She aimed and pulled the trigger, feeling sluggish, as though she moved under water.
The gun popped with a small crack like a roman candle, kicked back, waking her from her stupor. She blinked rapidly at the muzzle flash, watching with morbid fascination as the man thing fell back from Navarre, dazed. A hole blossomed on his cheek like a crimson rose. Navarre dropped to his hands, freed at last, shaking his head in confusion, his blond hair matted with blood.
The world returned to full throttle in an instant.
“Get the fuck away him!” she screamed. The man looked up at her, a killing look wiping the stunned surprise off his face. With amazing speed, he gained his feet and rushed her.
He should be dead. Not running. Not attacking.
Kaeli didn’t hesitate, fired straight into him. The gun popped rapidly, smoke filling the air. He didn’t pause a second, as if the slugs were no more a nuisance than mosquitoes pelting his hide.
He reached her and she fired again, heard the tell-tale click of the empty chamber. How could she have emptied the gun so fast? He snatched her gun from her steely grip with breathtaking speed, slashed at her. She dropped to the ground and his nails glanced through her braids trailing in the air as she ducked. He ran past, and she whirled in her crouch, kicking her leg out, saw he was gone--as though he’d flown away or something.
Kaeli straightened and shuddered, then turned and ran to Navarre as he gained his feet. He moved his arm, and it crunched with a sickening pop.
He gave her a wry smile then slumped against her. “My thanks,” he murmured against her shoulder.
She wrapped her arms around him for support. He was wet, sticky.
His shirt squished as she hugged him.
“Oh, Jesus!” she gasped. His back was soaked through with blood she found as she pulled her hands away, the thick liquid black in the shadows. She swallowed against the nausea, felt around, but she couldn’t find a wound, no bullet hole telling she’d missed his attacker and hit him.
There was only a small tear on his neck. She wiped at the blood with her palm, trying to see the wound, but after a few seconds, even that didn’t seem so bad. But the head area bled the worst. That could account for his drenching, and not all of it could be from him.
He could barely stand though and moved like he was drunk, his limbs too heavy to lift.
“We have to get you to a hospital. I’ll get someone to call inside.”
No one could have heard that commotion over the music pounding inside--
her suspicions confirmed when no one rushed outside to see what had happened. She had to go back and get help. She didn’t even consider calling the cops because, frankly, she despised them. And they’d probably haul her in for having had a gun.
“No,” he said and pushed off her, his strength returning. “No hospital. I’m goin’ home.”
“You stupid son of a bitch. You’re hurt. Bad. You’re going if I have to carry you myself.”
He smiled, and some of the color seemed to come back to his face, though it was hard to tell with the shadows. Moonlight and security lights could only reveal so much.
He started walking down the alley.
“You’re gonna fight me, huh?” she asked, jogging up beside him, glancing back to make sure the thug wasn’t sneaking up behind them.
He spared her a backward glance over his shoulder. “But of course, petite. Don’ worry, they’re both gone.”
Two? Two had jumped him? She hadn’t even seen the other. It was no damned wonder he was hurt. She didn’t even want to think about how she’d emptied her clip into one of the bastards. She wasn’t ready to question that just yet. Navarre knew something, and as soon as she made sure he was all right, she’d get the truth from him. Besides which, that thing had stolen her gun and she wanted it back.
“You got a car?” she asked, feeling doubtful. She didn’t relish the idea of walking him home, in the dark, without protection. Plus, she was wearing heels and they weren’t conducive to long nature walks.
“Jus’ ahead.”
“Good. I’ll take you home since you’re so damn hard headed.”
She ducked under his arm, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach at being pressed against him. He was hurt. You can’t lust after a half dead man. Hell, she was as bad as a damn dog panting after a bitch in heat.
“You know it’s illegal to bring a gun into a bar, chere?” It was more of a riling statement than any question.
“Huh,” she grunted. “Saved your ass, didn’t it?”
“I ‘spose it did.”
She grinned and they continued on until a sleek silver viper appeared in sight, parked under a flickering light pole. Without a touch of concern, he tiredly fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to her.
She accepted them and helped him to the passenger side, disengaging the alarm before opening the door. He dropped into the low ride, and she watched in dismay as he bloodied the black leather interior. It was his car, his blood ... maybe--what did she care?
Kaeli sunk into the driver’s seat and adjusted it for her height, giving him a once over before she fixed the mirrors to her line of sight.